


At First Sight

by lolahardy



Series: From Dark to Light [6]
Category: Inception (2010)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Stripper/Exotic Dancer, Angst, Arguing, Class Differences, Eventual Fluff, Eventual Happy Ending, Eventual Romance, Eventual Sex, Eventual Smut, Internal Conflict, M/M, Power Imbalance, Slow Build, Soulmates, Strippers & Strip Clubs
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-26
Updated: 2014-05-26
Packaged: 2018-01-26 14:05:23
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,131
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1690982
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lolahardy/pseuds/lolahardy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Eames adored Arthur from the moment he saw him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	At First Sight

**Author's Note:**

> Beta-ed by my love [Leesha](http://darlingleesha.tumblr.com)!

Eames had adored Arthur from the moment he saw him.

He had witnessed the dancer shine on stage, moving with such grace and ease. Especially when Arthur would arch his back, split his legs apart and tease by tugging down the sides of his tiny little skin tight shorts.

Arthur wore Converse sneakers - which Eames thought were adorable and eye-catching. Other dancers wore gaudy or outlandish boots or platforms, but Arthur in his plain black and white sneakers were something to remember.

Eames never crowded the stage where the other customers panted at him. He never thought to make him lose dignity by throwing money at him, he never wanted jam it down the front or sides of his shorts, making attempts to cop a feel either. Eames felt Arthur deserved better than that.

When Eames did get the nerve to finally get Arthur’s attention, he felt a bit awkward and nervous, afraid to offend or sound like some cheap come on when he really wanted to make conversation. He paid four hundred dollars at the door of the champagne room, then two hundred - the club’s cut and three hundred for Arthur himself. That was the standard rate. But when he finally had Arthur alone and he danced for him, he gave him five hundred. He thought it was rather childish of him but he really wanted Arthur to like him. He knew it would be foolish to think that Arthur would like him for anything but his money, but he hoped and he knew it was just a foundation.

He came to see Arthur often, watching his sets sometimes, but always waiting for him to interact with customers on the floor. He could see in Arthur’s well-rehearsed lines, well-practiced smiles and stiff movements that he hated to talk with the men on the floor. Being on stage was one thing, there was a distance, space where he was untouchable - on the floor he was mingling and on their level. At first, Eames thought there was something in Arthur that changed but it quickly vanished when Eames asked him out on a date.

He beat himself up, thinking he moved too fast and had offended him. So he didn’t ask again until more time had passed.

Each time Eames asked, he thought enough time had passed only to be rejected each time.

The bracelet was Eames’ humiliation breaking point. When Arthur refused it, Eames had, had enough. He was frustrated that Arthur would see his gesture as a means to “buy” him

Showing his frustration proved to be the better move as Arthur accepted the bracelet.

Even better when he saw Arthur wearing it, dancing with it, worked an entire set around his diamonds. He was smitten and so intrigued by him and he devoured every moment they had together, ate up every word Arthur gave him, any morsel of personal information that Arthur gave him was a treasure that Eames held onto and hoped he could use it to his advantage later - to woo and wish that Arthur would return his affection.

There were the rare moments when Arthur had a bad night, when he was tired, when he was in pain, when he couldn’t fool Eames no matter how hard he tried that Eames told him to just sit beside him.

He would ask him what happened that night that made him angry or how long had he been on his feet or how long his shift was and Arthur would tell him. The first time Eames did this, Arthur was caught off guard, unsure of what to do, telling Eames that it would be unwise for him to spend his money like that. Eames said that in the champagne room, he could use Arthur’s time as he saw fit and he wanted Arthur to sit and tell him about his night.

Arthur sometimes sighed and rattled off a laundry list of aches acting up; his feet usually hurt, his knees from crawling across the stage or dropping down too fast during a dance, his back from the arches or sudden snaps or turns. He would complain about some handsy customer that he couldn’t slap away fast enough or he was exhausted, working double shifts on busy nights because he was short on his bills. Eames would listen and never interrupt and nod and only talk when Arthur asked a question. Those moments were the most important to Eames because he felt Arthur was gradually opening up to him, even if it was just to vent.

Physical contact was something that was gradually happening between them. Eames longed for more but the very touch of Arthur hand in his own or being allowed to touch Arthur’s body was thrilling for him. He savored every second and as much as he wanted to go further, he didn’t dare move from where Arthur’s hands had placed his.

When Arthur wasn’t in the club, Eames wasn’t either. He had a pretty good idea of Arthur’s schedule and would only show up when he knew Arthur was working. Now and then, thing were switched and sometimes, Arthur had a day off or his shift changed if he covered for another dancer. Eames had dared to send him flowers on his day off once and when he saw him again, Arthur thanked him, kissing his cheek, holding his hand, smiling a real smile at him. When he was taken to the champagne room, the dance was more sensual, Eames allowed to touch him again, Arthur starting Eames’ hands up near his rib cage, letting them slide up and down his body when he danced. Arthur was as close to him as he ever had been, his lips so close that when Eames licked his lips, he practically tasted Arthur. He could look into his eyes and see the curve of his eyelashes, he could count the faint freckles over his cheeks, he could smell the sweet fragrance of his shampoo when Arthur’s hair brushed over Eames’ nose.

When he came, Arthur was still on his lap, looking pleased with himself as he leaned close to him, his slender arms on Eames’ shoulders as Eames held his waist, daring to move his arms now to hold him in an embrace. Arthur didn’t mind.

“Amazing...you always are…”

He felt he couldn’t come up with anything better, but Arthur smiled and tilted his head, pressing a soft kiss to the corner of Eames’ mouth, still smiling as he pulled back.

“It’s my pleasure, Mr. Eames.”

 It was one of the better nights.

It was a slow build for Eames to get where he was, but it had been worth the months of waiting and would continue to be worth it with every step forward he took.  
  



End file.
